


Sage Advice from Your Friendly Neighborhood Demon

by teamdiverseprotagonists



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Demon Bela Talbot, Demon Dean, Demon Dean Winchester, Episode: s03e15 Time Is On My Side, Gen, Mark of Cain, Mention of - Freeform, Oblivious Dean, This set in a bar, its very new and revolutionary I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:16:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3821749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamdiverseprotagonists/pseuds/teamdiverseprotagonists
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester meets a demon in a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sage Advice from Your Friendly Neighborhood Demon

Its been a long day.

It’d been more vampires. _Vampires._ Dean twirled the whiskey glass in his hands, scowling.

Dean was up for a little housekeeping, sure. But the third case in a row about vampires? Throw in a little variety, for God’s sake. Honestly, he’d kill for a rawhead, windigo, something. Next time he’s just going to sit down in whatever abandoned warehouse they’d stumbled into and let Sam do all the work.

He took another gulp of the whiskey.

The bar around him was crowded enough, for a Thursday night. The tables behind him were full, the bartenders constantly moving, music low but constant. The bar was filling up, but so far no one had tried sitting next to Dean. The brooding, combined with the occasional muttered “friggin vampires” had been enough to deter the other patrons.

Unfortunately, it seemed the brooding could only take him so far.

Unbidden, someone slid into the seat next to him.

Dean grunted in acknowledgement, hunching further over his whiskey, as if someone was going to take it from him.

They sat in silence for a moment, him, the stranger, and the whiskey.

Suddenly, the stranger spoke.

“Must be a demotion for Sam. Poor Boy King, not being the most demonic one in the family. Tell me, how’s the poor thing taking it?”

Dean’s shoulders tensed. The whiskey glass in his hands stilled, and he slid his gaze slowly to the right. The woman beside him chuckled.

“Oh don’t look so surprised Dean. You’re really not that difficult to find, and besides, no one else wears that much plaid, _constantly_. It’d be harder to miss you, actually.”

She’s perched on the edge of her seat. Her manicured fingers are raised casually as she flags down one of the bartender for a drink.

She isn’t looking at Dean. “Oh great,” he grits out, shifting so he can get to his knife, “another of Crowley’s bitches.”

The woman sighed, and with a snap of her fingers the knife in his waistband is gone, and Dean’s reaching for empty air. “Is that any way to speak to old friends, Dean?” she chastised, as if nothing’s happened. “I know you weren’t terribly fond of me in the end, but at least I extend you the courtesy of not greeting you by some generic repetitive slur.”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and seeing his tight jaw, sighed. ”Pretty-boy.” She offered. “There, now we’re even.”

Damn, but he hates when they start monologuing. Weaponless, he turns to his fallback defense. “Old friends?” Dean felt his face stretch into a leer “Sorry sweetheart, but you’ll have to be more specific. Make a lot of friends in these parts.” He let his gaze fall from the side of her face to her chest.

She tuts in disappointment.

“As have I, Dean, but you don’t see me mentioning it in polite company. A lady never kisses and tells.”

He’s about to ask how a demon qualifies as a _lady_ , in _any_ circle, when she cuts across him.

“And if we’re talking of demonic friends, don’t you think Sam would have a better chance of recognition?”

There’s a silence.

Time for a subject change.

“What does Crowley want?”

“How should I know? Maternal affection? Castiel’s wings on a stick? Give him a call yourself if you’re so interested.”

“You don’t know?”

“I have better things to do than to cater to whoever’s Hell’s biggest drama queen, sweetheart. Azazel, Lilith, Crowley, Abbadon- personally, I was Team Meg. But then _someone_ got herself killed over the Winchesters and their little pet.”

This is said with a slightly bitter expression.

“So no, I’m not here on Crowley’s behalf. I’m here because I want to be. And I have a message.”

For the first time of the night, she turned to face him, head on. Her eyes were green.

“Boo-hoo, you’re a demon. Suck it up. At least you didn’t have to go through 'initiation' like the rest of us did.”

She threw down a bill and made to stand.

“And you have people who care about you and are trying to help. Do you know how rare that is, Dean? Do you know how many of us would have killed for people like that? Times may be hard Dean, but at least you didn’t die alone in a hotel room with a silent phone and no one to bury your body when the Hounds came.”

Dean stared at her, thinking. Her story sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Old friends, she’d said.

She stood, and slipped a bill under her coaster. “Until next time, then,” she said, her eyes flashing to black.

“See you in Hell, Dean Winchester.”

**Author's Note:**

> You cannot tell me Bela Talbot has not kept herself alive all these years and never ran into MOC Dean


End file.
